


count on this

by Areiton



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Mental Health Issues, POV Second Person, POV Stiles, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 02:26:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13965357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: Peter is strength and snark and fury. Derek is soft and shy and good.And you? You are the glue that binds it all into one.





	count on this

He wakes you, screaming, and you scramble for him, dodging hands that tug and pull you back, pressing close until you can hear his heartbeat pounding, even under the desperate screams. 

“Shh,” you whisper, “shhh. I’m here. You’re ok. We’re here.” 

“It’s not real,” he gasps, and your heart twists. 

You hate this. 

“You aren’t real,” he insists and his hands come down on your shoulders, shoving at you and you feel your heart breaking. 

~*~ 

He’s broken. 

You know that. But you don’t mind. You like broken things--you love Derek, after all. 

Loving Peter feels right, and if he is a little broken, his edges a little jagged--well. 

He fits with you, with Derek. Jagged edges and all. 

~*~ 

Derek hates when you throw yourself into Peter, when he wakes up screaming. 

He held you the one time Peter caught you with his claws, held you while Peter stared, his eyes wide and glowing and devastated, while you gasped and bled all over your sheets, and promised him you were ok, that he hadn’t hurt you, was he alright, let me  _ go, _ Derek. 

Peter left you there, in Derek’s arms, and ran into the woods and it took days, to coax him back to you. 

~*~ 

You aren’t sure when you began to care about him. You think maybe it was the Wild Hunt, when he was the only stable thing in the world. He’s like Derek in that--you’ve loved him so long that when you finally realized that’s what it was, it felt like breathing, like everything  _ right _ in the world. 

Loving them--loving them  _ both _ \--felt like the only solid ground in a world that was constantly shifting. 

~*~ 

No one understands the three of you. You tried explaining it once--that Derek felt like the light you wanted to be, and Peter is the darkness that lives inside you and standing between them, you feel whole. 

No one understands that. Your dad doesn’t--but he accepts your choices and your lovers and the rest of the world can fuck itself. 

~*~ 

When you move in with Derek, Peter is already there, and you think--Peter is the strong one. 

He’s the snark and sass, the one who reels Derek out of his guilt and you out of your research binges. 

But it takes only three nights for you to understand--Peter is strength and snark, but he is fragile, cracks and splintered pieces held together by lies and a quick tongue and determination. 

~*~ 

Peter is strength and snark and fury. Derek is soft and shy and good. 

And you? You are the glue that binds it all into one. 

~*~

It wasn't only Eichan, though that left scars. 

It wasn't only the Hunt, though that haunts you both. 

It wasn't only the fires-- _ he has burned so many times _ \--though he flinches sometimes, shies away from flames and Derek won't allow one in the house, so the fireplace sits empty and hated. 

It isn't only or even  _ mostly _ what came after the fire. 

It's everything Talia stole that haunts him.

~*~

“Hey,” you croon and he stares at you, eyes wide and wild, gleaming blue. “Hey, you're ok.” 

“It's not real,” he whispers and Derek whimpers. “You're not  _ real.” _

You spread your fingers and wiggle them until his eyes catch and say, soft and firm, “We're real, babe. C’mon, count with me.” 

He sobs, when he realizes he's awake, curls into you and Derek pets his hair and he shakes, with grief and relief. 

~*~ 

“I hate her, for doing this to him,” Derek says, furious and helpless. 

You lean heavier into him and close your eyes because you hate her, too. 

~*~ 

It isn’t perfect, this thing between you. 

There are times, when Peter lashes out, runs from you both. Times when he stays and fights with Derek, vicious and cutting and cruel. Times when you snarl and snap and drive them both away with your fury. Times when Derek retreats, sullen and sulky and silent, because he can’t bear to hurt either of you, even when he’s hurting. 

It isn’t perfect. 

But. 

You always crawl back, and Peter always presses apologetic kisses into your skin, and Derek curls in your arms, whispering soft and shy, like he is afraid you will turn him away. 

It isn’t perfect. 

But it’s good. 

~*~ 

Strong arms register before the screams do, the press of a familiar body over the painful rasp of screams and a familiar whine. 

“Shh, sweetheart,” he croons, and you gasp, sobbing. “We’re here, sweetheart. We’re here.” 

~*~ 

No one understands this. 

Sometimes you don’t understand it. But you wake up with a throat sore from screaming, hands shaky and impossible to look away from as you count. You see Derek staring into nothing and blinking when Peter brushes a hand over his throat, a gentle caress. 

You see the cracks and faultlines in Peter that no one else is allowed to see, watch him watching you, the spread of your fingers as he mouths the words,  _ one two three four five _ . 

You squeeze his hand and whisper, fiercely,  _ “Real. This _ is  _ real.”  _

And he sighs, relief and gratitude in his gaze. He holds you through your nightmares and Derek kisses you careful but sure in the morning, and you coax Derek out of his grief and melancholy. 

You don’t always understand it. 

But you know that you can count on it. 

On them. 

You’ve built a life out of counting on this. 


End file.
